


Expiration Date

by Treehouse



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: M/M, Massage, PWP, Smut, and different second meeting too, different first meeting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 12:55:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16954437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Treehouse/pseuds/Treehouse
Summary: In the midst if the December stress, Isak has to make use of the gift card Eskild gave him for Christmas last year.A gift card for a freaking massage.





	Expiration Date

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the Evakteket SKAMenger Hunt and fills the prompt "spices". 
> 
> Basically, it's almost 5k of trope-y, self-indulgent pwp and I hope you'll like it! 
> 
> [Irazor](www.tumblr.com/irazor) betaed this and made it so much better - thank you babe! <3

He really doesn’t have time for this, no matter how much he might need it. 

But Eskild gave him this gift card last year for Christmas and it expires in two days, and he knows how sad he would be if Isak didn’t use it. It must have cost a lot of money, much more than that glittery rainbow coloured mug that Isak offered him. Even if Eskild almost got tears in his eyes when he unwrapped it. 

Isak really doesn’t deserve all the niceness Eskild throws his way. 

Sure, he can be nosy and sometimes he steals Isak’s food, but he does have a heart of gold and if he hadn’t saved Isak that one time, he honestly don’t know where he’d be today. 

Also, Isak does occasionally steal Eskild’s food too. 

So. He’s going to at least try to enjoy this. For Eskild’s sake. 

And, he’s going to buy him a nicer Christmas gift this year. 

He turns right, looking for number ten. It should be right here according to his phone. And yes, there, squeezed in between a café and a small bookshop is a window with a sign that says Briskeby Massage Studio. 

The sign looks nice enough, and when he enters a small bell chimes. Inside it’s light and fresh with lots of green, potted plants, a small sofa and an armchair, and a bunch of magazines on a small coffee table. 

There’s also a sleek desk with a binder and a laptop on it, probably for the receptionist.  Right now, though, the chair behind the desk is empty. He stands there for a couple of seconds, unsure what to do next. Should he sit down, since his appointment isn’t for another ten minutes? Or maybe wait by the desk? 

Luckily, his thoughts are interrupted by the sound of footsteps and a voice calling out. “I’m coming!” 

Isak turns around a little, doesn’t want to seem  impatient or obnoxious, and busies himself reading the cover of some folder on a shelf beside the desk. “ _ The benefits of regular massage”  _ with a smiling, white woman in white clothes. 

_ Pft. _

“Hi, I’m sorry you had to wait.” The voice is deep and friendly, albeit a little bit stressed. 

“It’s –” Isak looks up as he’s speaking and fuck. 

_ Fuck.  _

He recognizes him instantly, would know that quiff anywhere, those lips, those eyes. 

It’s  _ the guy.  _

The guy Isak met at a bar a few weeks ago, the guy that he made out with in the back of said establishment and who kissed Isak within an inch of his life while his hands were exploring Isak’s body, and  _ also _ the guy who had to leave quickly because his friends dragged him away shouting about a fight or something Isak didn't quite catch. The guy Isak haven’t stopped thinking about since. More than once, he’s cursed himself for not even getting his name. Or his freaking number. 

And now, here he stands, right in front of Isak. Even better-looking than he remembers, and how is that even possible? 

He’s tall and skinny, dressed in black jeans and a black t-shirt with the massage studio’s logo on it. 

Okay. So he obviously works here. 

Isak has to draw a breath. “– it’s okay.” 

Fortunately, the guy seems  as surprised as Isak, and it takes a couple of seconds before he collects himself. 

“Hi. I mean, welcome.” 

They’re staring at each other, and Isak is trying to assess whether they should A. Talk about what happened that last time they saw each other, or B. Pretend like nothing. 

Maybe the guy doesn’t even recognize him? The bar was quite dark, and he might have been drunk. 

But no. That’s definitely recognition in his eyes. In his big, blue eyes that Isak honestly could drown in, no matter how clichéd it sounds. 

The guy clears his throat and opens the binder on the desk. “Uhm, do you have an appointment?” 

Okay, so it seems that the guy is going with option B.  _ Pretend like nothing _ . Even though it makes Isak’s stomach sink, he’s fine with it. He has to be. He can’t force anyone to like him, can he? 

“Yeah, at half past. Isak Valtersen.” Isak looks down as well, doesn’t want to impose. This doesn’t have to become a big deal. A random guy he made out with is working in the reception of a massage parlor he visits. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. 

“Yes, here you are. If you’d just go down the corridor to room number four, it’s the second on your right, we’ll be with you shortly.” He swallows. “You can, eh, remove your clothes and lie down, there are towels on the table.” The guy smiles at Isak, but it’s kind of strained. He is clearly uncomfortable. 

Isak nods, and proceeds to the designated room. He sighs. Maybe he should have said something?  _ Nice to see you again? I’ve been looking for you? _ He’s usually fast and witty, how come he is so tongue-tied today?  

At least now he knows where to find him. Maybe he should try and talk to him on his way out, if he’s still in the reception? Yes, that’ll be perfect. Then he’ll have something great to say figured out. Just casually ask him out for coffee. At least he’s got nothing to lose, he can’t be any more single than he already is. And it’s not like he has to come back here if things doesn’t go his way. 

He takes his clothes off, folds them and put them on the chair in the corner. The room is warm, painted in a deep green shade, and the lights are dimmed. More potted plants, some candles. A massage table is placed in the middle of the room, and on the shelf by the wall there is a variety of bottles, probably with oils and ointments in them. 

Is he really supposed to take off  _ all _ of his clothes? Like, his boxers too? After some hesitation, he removes them. The guy had said that there were towels to cover himself with after all, and he is up for a full body massage. 

He grabs a towel and wraps it around his hips. Lays down on his stomach, and waits. 

Less than a minute later there’s a knock on the door, and then Isak can hear it open slowly. “Good, you’re ready.” 

And  _ fuck. _ It’s the guy from the reception, the guy from the bar. Surely, he isn’t the one to..?

“I’m Even, by the way, and I’ll be taking care of you today.” 

If Isak hadn’t been lying naked on a table under a towel right now, he would have fled the scene. He closes his eyes for a second, trying to figure out if this really is happening or if it’s just a really humiliating dream – the kind where you show up naked for class or something like that – but when he opens them again he’s still lying down on a massage table and he’s got this glorious view of  _ Even’s _ ass as he’s bending down to reach a bottle of oil on one of the lower shelves. 

Even, the guy he’s been dreaming about for weeks now, but who obviously doesn’t care for  their making out-session in the bar the same way as Isak does. Even, who is going to put his big, strong hands on him again in just a couple of seconds. Cover him in oil, knead his muscles, his whole body while Isak is naked, only covered by a skimpy towel and  _ fuck his life.  _

How did his ultimate fantasy just become a freaking nightmare? 

And why does this always happen to Isak? Why can’t he ever have something nice? Not even a relaxing forty-five minutes on a massage table in the midst of December stress? 

Suddenly, there’s music in the room, a fleeting melody with electronic, underwater-y sounds that are probably supposed to be relaxing, but make Isak cringe even more.

“Is cinnamon okay? Cinnamon and sandalwood with a tiny bit ylang-ylang?” Even asks suddenly, making Isak turn his head towards him. “For the oil, I mean.” He’s got that stiff smile plastered on him again, a smile that makes Isak sure that Even finds this exactly as awkward as Isak does. 

“Uhm, sure,” he answers, and Even visibly relaxes a little, lets his shoulders down, unscrews the cap and moves towards Isaks feet. 

Even though there’s this weird tension in the room, Isak still can’t help but think that Even is one of the most attractive persons he’s ever laid his eyes on. His long, skinny legs. His arms, that aren’t particularly muscular, but must be strong and assiduous considering his trade. Isak remembers the way Even’s hair felt between his fingers that night in the bar, how it was soft but also a bit sticky with product. How the skin of Even’s neck felt against his lips, and how good he smelled. Spicy. 

How disheveled he had looked when he had left Isak leaning against the wall, panting, sporting a boner that didn’t go away for the rest of the evening.

_ Fuck. _

“Actually, I’ll start with your neck and your shoulders. If you want to, you can put your face down the hole in the table, that way you’ll relax more.” 

Isak does as Even says, and thinks to himself that the only thing good about this setup is that he at least doesn’t have to look Even in the eyes the whole time.

He can hear Even rub his hands together, probably to warm up the oil, and suddenly he’s surrounded by that smell again; the deep, woody, spicy smell that he instantly recognizes as Even’s. 

He inhales sharply as Even puts his hands on his shoulders, a bit overwhelmed and not at all prepared for someone to touch him. 

Even backs away immediately and Isak feels like an idiot. 

“Sorry, I –” 

“No, sorry, I should’ve –”

“It’s fine, I –” 

Even clears his throat and Isak flushes where he lies. Can this be more embarrassing? 

“So. I’ll start now, okay?” 

Isak tries to nod, but his head is kind of wedged into the hole in the table, and he hurries to croak out an “okay” as well, to prevent further misunderstandings. 

Even starts out with broad strokes from his neck, down his shoulder blades, pressing his thumbs down on the way up, just where Isak’s muscles are sore from hunching over books during endless study sessions for his exams. He continues to press the heels of his hands along Isak’s shoulders, not hard, more like he’s estimating the task at hand. Firm fingers along his neck, and Isak has to focus not to let out a sound at that. It just  _ feels so much. _

“Does it hurt?” Even’s voice is near, he must have bent down a bit. 

“Eh, no, it’s fine.” The combination of Even’s voice close to his ear and his warm hand still resting on Isak’s shoulder makes him shudder, and he draws a shaky breath. 

“Try to relax, okay? And tell me if it’s too much.” 

Isak can feel the small puffs of air coming from Even’s mouth. He wants to yell that it’s already too much, and at the same time he doesn’t want Even to ever take his hands off of him. 

But he’s not allowed to think like that. 

Instead, he exhales slowly, trying really hard to relax his muscles, to let Even do his job. Tries not to think about how close he is, how this smell is reminding him of the night at the bar, of Evens mouth against his own. 

Even must have put more oil on his hands, because the slide is easier now, and it lets him really dig in to Isak’s muscles. His hands are firm and strong and seem to know exactly where to press and where to stroke, and Isak has to bite his tongue not to growl. He almost loses himself in the feeling, starts to relax, when Even starts working his way further down his back. 

Long strokes along the muscles lining Isak’s vertebrae, and then Even is drawing circles with this thumbs, up and down several times. Isak tries not to think about how Even is skirting the edge of the towel draped over his butt several times, tries to focus on the feeling of his muscles being worked over, of how good this feels. 

“Your shoulders and back are quite tense.” Even states the obvious as his hands slide up the length of Isak’s back once again, leaving his skin warm and tender, almost tingling. “What do you do for a living?” 

“I’m – uh – a student.” Isak grunts out as Even squeezes the muscles in his shoulders. “So I guess i hunch over books too much.” 

Even hums at that, and then he removes his hands, leaving Isak feeling cold and almost needy.

“I’ll start working on your legs now.” 

Isak lifts his head from the hole in the table and folds his arms under his chin, resting his head. “Okay.” 

He can’t help but watch Even as he passes him, can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking. If he’s as confused as Isak is. If he finds this awkward or if it’s just another day at work. 

Suddenly, he can’t stand not knowing. 

He lifts his head again, looking behind him, at Even. A strand of hair has fallen down his forehead, a sheen of sweat on his face, no doubt from the work he’s been doing on Isak. He’s busy pouring more oil on his hands when he looks up, meeting Isak’s eyes, then freezes for a second before he looks down again, putting the oil to the side, rubbing his hands together, gripping Isak’s right foot. 

Isak lays his head down on his arms again, tries to breathe, wracking his brain for something to say. Anything. 

Even’s hands are working wonders on his feet. He never thought that foot massage was even a thing, just thought it was something people with too much time or money did, but this – this is heaven. Even presses his thumbs along the arch of Isaks foot and he didn’t even know how much tension he carried there until Even pushes it out of him. 

Both his feet are properly massaged, and he’s still got nothing to say. At all. And Even is just as quiet as him, probably busying himself with his work to avoid conversation.

Isak sighs, damning his inability to just say something. It seems impossible, all the alternatives he comes up with feels unnatural. And maybe it’s the fact that he’s lying here, almost naked in front of the guy he’s been thinking about non stop for the last couple of weeks but, fuck, he has to do something.

Even has continued up his legs and is now pressing the heels of his hands along Isak’s calves and it  _ hurts _ , but it’s the good kind of pain, and Isak can’t help but grunt from how amazing it feels. 

He can hear Even inhale while pressing down again, from his ankle all the way up to the back of his knee. Even’s fingertips graze the skin there, on the inside of his knee and  _ oh.  _ It tickles and at the same time there’s that slight pleasure-pain from his calves, and, is Even going to continue upwards? Is he going to put those big, strong hands on his thighs, press and squeeze the muscles there?

And what about his ass? Isak is no expert on muscles or anything, but he knows that one of the bigger ones, the  _ gluteus maximus _ , is, in fact, his ass. 

Okay, no, he has to stop thinking about this because right now, his dick has started to take notice. 

_ Shit.  _

He feels more trapped than ever, and he hasn’t got a single way to escape. Not before – naked, and not now – naked with a semi. 

Isak must have tensed up, because Even stops what he’s doing. 

“Are you okay? Did I press too hard?” He sounds so concerned, and it makes Isak feel even more like shit. Even is worried whether he’s doing a good job or not, and he himself is fantasizing about Even’s hands on his ass. 

Can he be more of a douche? 

“No, it’s fine, I’m – I’m sorry.” 

“Oh, okay.” Even starts sliding his hands up Isak’s calves again, keeping the pressure somewhat lighter this time, stroking slowly, almost like he’s preoccupied, thinking about something. 

Even clears his throat. “You know... I – I’ve been thinking about you.” 

His voice is a bit gravelly, and it’s sending shivers down Isak’s spine. He’s not sure he even dares to look at Even right now, but whispers a “Yeah?” 

“Mm.” 

Isak turns his head, just a little, have to see if it’s all real or not. 

“I’ve been thinking about you too.” He inhales. “A lot.” 

Even’s hands have stilled, one on the back of each knee, the thumbs almost on his thighs and it’s doing things to Isak, fogging his mind, like there’s a direct line from where Even’s thumbs are resting, up to his groin. 

“Yeah?” Even’s voice is dark and rough, his hands perfectly still on the back of Isak’s legs, almost like he’s keeping him there. “What have you been thinking about?” 

Isak inhales shakily, tries to come up with at least one reasonable thing to answer. “I, uh –”. 

But his brain obviously checked out some time ago, leaving him with nothing. Instead, he parts his legs, just the slightest bit, and that small movement rubs his now rock hard dick against the towel on the table and he can’t suppress the moan that escapes him and  _ fuck.  _ Why did he even do that?  __

If someone were to drop an atomic bomb on him right now, he would actually be grateful. 

Instead, he hears Even draw a breath, muttering “Fuck,” while slowly sliding his hands a couple of centimeters higher up his thighs, thumbs still on the inside and this is the single most exciting thing Isak has ever experienced. 

The thought of Even, spreading his legs, sliding those big, capable, oily hands further up under the towel is enough to make him move again, just the slightest press against Even’s hands, almost a grind against the table and he hears his own voice, almost pleading. “Please.” 

Even doesn’t move, his hands still resting on the back of Isak’s legs, almost on his thighs and it’s driving Isak crazy, it’s like he’s having trouble remembering how to breathe. He’s never been so sure of what he wants, and never expressed it so explicitly either. 

And yet, Even doesn’t move. 

The moment seems to go on forever, and Isak realizes now that this was a bad idea. Even could probably get fired if he did something inappropriate with a client. 

If he even wanted to do something inappropriate, that is. 

“We’re still not done with the massage.” Even removes his hands from Isak’s legs and instantly there’s an ice cold chill going through Isak’s body. He misinterpreted the whole thing, of course he did. Even doesn’t want this, he just wants to do his job, and Isak is just a pervy client with an inappropriate boner. 

He opens his mouth to start apologizing, wants to get up, to get out. But before he can start, Even’s hands are back on his legs, on the back of his thighs, and he can feel by the way they slide across his skin that he has added more oil. This time, Even moves them from the back of his knees and up, letting his fingers graze the edge of the towel. He does it again, and on the way back down, he lets his hands slide down a bit more on the inside of Isak’s legs and that ice cold chill is long gone. It’s like his body is on fire, all his nerve endings on alert, just waiting for Even to touch him again. To touch him  _ everywhere.  _

Even doesn’t, though. It’s almost like he’s hesitating. Every time he’s on his way underneath the towel, he draws back, down Isak’s thighs again and it’s driving Isak crazy. It’s so much, but not enough. Just what he wants but not right where he wants it, and he spreads his legs even more, tries to lure Even further up, tries to will away the towel with the power of thought. 

Even’s breathing is laboured now, almost ragged. 

His hands still for a second, before they slide up again. This time, it doesn’t stop. Even’s hands continue, up, underneath the towel, just touching where Isak’s thighs meets his ass,  and he can’t hold back a moan, can’t help but move against him, to show him that he wants this. 

He wants this so bad. 

“Oh god, Isak.” He hears Even whisper and then he can feel the towel being pulled off, slowly, as if Even wants him to have a chance to say stop. 

Like he would ever. 

Next thing he knows, Even’s hands are on his ass, covering it with oil, kneading, digging his thumbs deep into the muscles on each side. It’s such a heady feeling, because even though Isak is more aroused than ever before, they  _ technically _ haven’t done anything yet that doesn’t counts as a massage. 

Okay, maybe a little. 

_ Maybe  _ if you think about the fact that Isak is stark naked and with every push and knead Even is spreading his cheeks a little and he can probably see everything, his thumbs closer to Isak’s crack with every grab. And with every push and knead on his ass, Even is also pressing Isak down, squeezing his rock hard dick against the table, making Isak whimper with need. 

Isak is sweating now, he’s hot and oily. The music has stopped playing – the only thing he can hear is the sound of Even breathing and of the blood rushing in his ears. The air is thick and warm, smelling of the scented massage oil that Even is rubbing into his skin, and he feels almost as if he’s high. 

He can feel Even drizzle more oil over his ass – it’s slightly cooler than his skin at first, and it tickles as it’s flowing along his skin. More oil, running down between his cheeks, all the way down to his balls, and he has to grab a hold of the edge of the table when he feels Even’s fingers between his cheeks, just barely touching, sliding easily over the oily skin, down and up again before he parts them, gently. 

Isak inhales rapidly, whimpers “Oh god. Please.” when Even’s thumbs come to rest on either side of his hole and he can feel himself twitching, clenching, he’s never been this desperate, ever. Never felt this urge to just be filled up, to be taken. Even continues to tease him, to just hold him open until he finally presses a slender finger inside, making Isak moan out loud, asking for more. 

Isak’s every limb is tingling now, like there isn’t enough oxygen in his blood to sufficiently supply his whole body, all he can feel is the slide of Even’s fingers as they move in and out of him, slowly but surely, stretching him, filling him. And he can’t stay still anymore, he pushes against Even, meeting his fingers, forcing them deeper inside. 

It’s not enough. 

He moves, starts to get up, and Even pulls his fingers out. He looks just as desperate as Isak feels, his quiff laying almost flat against his head, strands of hair wet from sweat are stuck to his forehead, and there’s a delicious blush high on his cheeks. His lips are bitten red and Isak just has to kiss him, has to touch him. Until now, he has been the one being touched, but now he can’t stand it anymore. He has to feel Even too, has to claim him, has to taste those lips again. 

So, he turns around and pulls Even towards him by his arm, and can’t help but smile before he crashes their lips together. 

To kiss Even is every bit as exhilarating as he remembers. His kisses are deep and demanding, and he moves in to stand between Isak’s legs, grinds against him while his hands find Isak’s ass again, and Isak is dying. The slide of Even’s lips against his own, his hands pressing him close to Even, letting him feel just how hard Even is underneath his jeans. He moans against Even’s mouth, earning another hard grind against the rough denim of Even’s pants and  _ why is he not naked too? _

Isak grabs hold of the hem of Evens t-shirt, and Even lets him go so he can rip it off while Isak starts to open his his jeans. 

“I need you to fuck me.” He doesn’t even know where the words come from, but as soon as they’re out of his mouth, he knows they’re true. 

Even blinks, stares at him, like he’s trying to assess whether Isak actually means it, and then he nods. “Okay, yeah. Fuck.” He kicks off his shoes and slides his pants down his long legs and  _ fuck, _ Isak is so ready for this. 

“Oh god, you’re gorgeous.” And wow, he’s never said things like these out loud before, never been much of a talker, but hey – he’s never done something like this before either, like something straight out of a freaking porno. 

Even smiles at him, kisses him again, his arms around Isak’s neck and all that glorious skin against Isak’s. “Do you, uhm, have a condom?” 

“You know what? I do.” 

  
  


The massage table is creaking ominously under their combined weight, but Isak couldn’t care less. Even is sitting between his legs, holding his leg up, teasing him with his fingers, making Isak pant and almost beg. He’s aching, but he doesn’t even dare to touch himself, knows that he will come instantly if he does. 

Even pours more oil onto Isak, he can feel himself dripping with it, soft and slippery, wet and open, and he can see Even looking. And somehow, that turns him on even more. 

“Come on, fuck me,” he pants, and Even looks at him with dark eyes before he lowers himself over Isak, still holding his leg, keeping him open and ready. 

He feels the blunt pressure of Even’s dick against his hole, how it’s pressing and pushing and breaching, sliding slowly inside him, filling him to the brim. He moans loudly – it’s so intense, and it’s everything he craves right now. Even’s weight on top of him, his skin against Isak’s, his laboured breath against his temple, and his hard dick buried deep inside of Isak. 

Even starts moving almost instantly, withdraws slowly, only to push back inside immediately, deeper with every thrust and Isak can’t keep quiet. It’s the most delicious feeling, the slide of oily skin against oily skin, Even’s mouth against his and his glorious dick filling him up. 

Even moans with him, starts to move faster, harder and Isak puts his hand around himself. He’s slippery with oil and precum, hot and hard against his own hand, and when Even hits his prostate on a particularly hard thrust, he comes. He can feel his muscles contract, how he’s clenching hard around Even, how his balls are pulling up so tight it’s almost painful. Even fucks him through it, prolonging his orgasm, and he has to close his eyes –  it’s almost too much, too intense. 

Even is twitching, moaning, undoubtedly spilling into the condom, before he collapses on top of Isak, chest heaving, hair damp with sweat. 

For a couple of blissful seconds, everything is calm, relaxed,  _ sated. _

And then, Isak opens his eyes, and allows himself to look. Even’s forehead is glistening with sweat, his eyelashes fanning out over high cheekbones, mouth slightly open. He’s beautiful. Handsome. 

And Isak just had sex with him at his place of work. 

Even inhales, turns his head to look at him, and Isak has no idea what he is supposed to do now. Sure, he’s had his fair share of one night stands, but nothing like this. Not during day time, not while someone’s working, not without a single beer in his system. 

Not with someone that he’s been thinking about for weeks, someone that he actually wants to spend more time with.  

Even looks at him. “Wow. I – “ He smiles. “– this was not what I saw coming today.” 

“No?” Isak raises his eyebrows, dares to smile a little too. 

Even shakes his head. “No, shit, I – I’d never thought I even... but then it was you, and – “ He puts his head on Isak’s shoulder, whispers. “I’ve been kind of obsessing over you.” 

Butterflies erupt in Isak’s stomach, and he smiles even bigger.. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I – fuck, this is going to sound creepy.” Even buries his face in Isak’s shoulder. 

“You’ve already got your dick in my ass, take a shot.” 

Even actually giggles at that and looks up at him. “I’ve been passing that bar on my way to and from work every day since we met there. And on the weekends too. Sometimes twice.” 

Isak holds him closer. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” 

“Mm. But you’re here now.” 

Isak clears his throat. “I didn’t even want to come here, but I had this gift card that my roommate gave me and it expires in two days, so – “ 

“I’m so glad you did, though.” Even kisses his jaw, still resting on his shoulder. 

“I had this whole plan where I was going to ask you out for coffee after my massage, but – “ He huffs out a laugh. “ – then you entered and I was naked and it was so awkward.” 

Even lifts his head. “I thought you were naked because you planned this?” 

“No!” Isak looks at him, eyes wide. “I was naked because you told me to undress!” 

Even laughs so hard his eyes almost disappear and Isak flushes. “What?” 

“Most people keep their underwear.” He starts laughing all over again, and Isak pushes him away mockingly.  

“Okay, the coffee is definitely cancelled – “ 

“I’d love to.”

“ – but now I don’t know.” He teases, and Even kisses him again. Slowly, gently this time. 

Speaks against his mouth. “Please?” 

“I’d love to.”

 

Yeah. Eskild is definitely getting a nicer Christmas present this year. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Please drop a comment, or come talk to me at [Tumblr](www.tumblr.com/modestytreehouse) <3


End file.
